


Brave Like A Wolf

by Val_Creative



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, First Meetings, GOT Secret Santa, GOT Secret Santa 2018, Light Angst, Mild Language, Minor Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell, No Smut, Pining, Pre-Femslash, Queen Daenerys, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Unresolved Romantic Tension, no violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 11:47:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16872366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Daenerys must admit — as cold and physically distant Sansa is upon her arrival at Winterfell, this woman continues to intrigue her. “Lady Sansa,” Daenerys speaks up, joining her after climbing the winding, frost-covered stones. The midday winter sun billows into Sansa’s orange-auburn hair, illuminating every precious strand.





	Brave Like A Wolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sapphfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphfics/gifts).



> Ohhhhhhh and so begins my 40+ Secret Santa posting it's gonna be wild yall I hope you are ready,,, I'm starting with the [GOT/ASOIAF Secret Santa](http://gotsecretsanta.tumblr.com/) (I did it last year and am very grateful for the opportunity to do this again!! woooooooooo!) and my giftee was [fantasygfs/haadestown](https://haadestown.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr! I saw they left Dany/Sansa as an option and I've never tried it! I really like the thought of it actually and tried to do this as,,, realistic???,,, as I could. If anything, I hope you guys reading this did enjoy it and hopefully my giftee does too! Thanks for being here and any comments/thoughts are so so so appreciated! ❤ ❤ ❤

 

*

The vanguard informs her that Jon's ship has been identified at White Harbor.

He returns to Winterfell before dusk, grinning boyishly-wide, conversing lowly with a silver-haired beauty Sansa doesn't recognize.

A southron most certainly, due to the lack of pelts and the elaborate, metal jewelry wrapped snugly against her collar. Is it a winged dragon with ruby-gem eyes she sees? Sansa then gazes over the woman's pale violet eyes and it hits her. A _Targaryen_. The only living one left in this world.

Jon greets Sansa with a murmur and a brief, warm hug.

"Sansa, this is Daenerys," he announces, motioning to the other woman who stares back wordlessly, expectantly, and raising an eyebrow. " _Queen_ ," Jon fumbles for more of an explanation, "Queen Daenerys."

Daenerys gives Sansa her full attention and a smile, and yet Sansa half doubts about the wholeheartedness of it. There's a forced nature and tightness around the edges of Daenerys's wind-chapped, pink mouth… it's the kind of expression given to those whom newly met and requiring to be false and diplomatic.

"I've been told much about you, Lady Sansa, and your bravery in the face of adversity."

Despite her heart thundering against her breastbone, Sansa drops her eyes to the ground and stiffly bows her head. "Jon, you've been summoned by Maester Renneal about the injured stableboys from yesterday," she informs him monotonously, looking back at Jon, gathering back up her mental defenses and walking out.

She misses the stretch of dumbfounded silence, and Daenerys making an uncomfortable and astonished noise.

"I believe you've been _summoned_ ," she whispers to Jon groaning and rubbing his hands over his face.

*

Daenerys must admit — as cold and physically distant Sansa is, this woman continues to intrigue her.

She stands quietly in the window of the highest tower, those small, pale hands folded within her heaviest layer of pelts. Observing the noise of the smiths working their crackling fires, with the kitchen servants clapping their hands and rounding up the livestock attempting to eat the muddy, hardening snow.

"Lady Sansa," Daenerys announces, joining her after climbing the winding, frost-covered stones. The midday winter sun billows into Sansa's orange-auburn hair, illuminating every precious strand.

Sansa doesn't look away from the window's opening.

"Your Grace," she murmurs tonelessly, unmoved.

Even from up this high, Daenerys can breathe in the odor of the censers, as they swing back and forth, their willowy, powerful incense releasing in burning-hot smoke. "Do you know why I'm here?" she asks Sansa, resting her boiled-leather, darkly gloved hands down to the window's bottom arch.

"… You're going to tell me," Sansa admits after a long, heightened moment, blinking and seemingly exasperated, "so forgive me for not despoiling the waking hour by guessing."

She's _brave_ indeed, Daenerys thinks curiously. No one has spoken so boldly in her presence since Jon Snow.

_Starks._

"I'm here to aid Winterfell and the North. To stop a common enemy. So why do you treat me as yours?"

A muscle in Sansa's jaw twitches. Daenerys waits patiently, admiring her young, seraphic profile as Sansa crinkles her brow and wipes over her mouth delicately with her fingertips.

"I've only know two Queens," Sansa confesses, her voice thickening with old, forgotten emotions. "Cersei Lannister and Margaery Tyrell. Cersei would have let all of King's Landing rape and murder me if it meant saving herself and her children. Margaery wasn't Cersei. But she still wanted to use me for her own gain."

Daenerys narrows her eyes curiously when the other woman abruptly faces her, steely in her porcelain-like features but utterly heartsore. Trapped by the strong currents of her memories. A gleam of iridescent moisture slides freely down Sansa's cheek. "I _loved_ her. Despite knowing her ambitions were bigger than her love for me, I _loved_ Margaery with all my heart. And now she's gone."

Without thinking about it further, Daenery presses in closer, feeling the other woman quiver a little less.

"Our losses become our armor against those who can harm us," Daenerys speaks up, watching as Sansa's features ease. "Rest assured, Sansa Stark, I have no such intentions of harming you as others in your past. I doubt you are a woman to be trifled with in any manner," she adds with a mildly teasing note, chuckling when Sansa exhales out a laugh, dabbing the tear cooling from her face.

"… Thank you, your Grace."

*

 


End file.
